Wasteland Weekend 2025

Wasteland Weekend 2025 episode is here. A journey through Wasteland with Prime and featuring interviews with Judge, Clementine, Preacher, Maxine Machina, Chicken, Dino Nuggets, and Brain.

Featured Songs by Processor:
-R U Alone?
-True 96 (Instrumental)
-Purple
-Pick'em
-Fingerprints
-Bright (Less Words)
-Void Signal Theme

Visit https://processor2.bandcamp.com for more Processor. 

Transcript

Hello again and welcome back to Void Signal. Thank you for tuning in to Void Signal. I’m Prime, and this is the Wasteland Weekend 2025 episode. It’s a blend of my own narration and firsthand experiences, along with interviews from fellow attendees who help bring this place to life, some recorded in the wastes, and several a few weeks after I’d returned home. I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, please let me know — and share it with others. I appreciate having my buttons clicked.

The return to Wasteland brought with it a noticeable number of changes since my last venture into the Mojave Desert. Some of them were physical, some logistical, and some internal. But despite those changes, I wanted to return to an experience that had left such a positive impression on me the year before — a place where I felt welcomed and accepted almost immediately. And it had helped me grow. A place where the conversations you have with strangers, tribemates, and fully committed characters can linger with you long after the dust has been washed away.

I discovered for myself last year that Wasteland is a place where memories are made — where experiences aren’t just witnessed, but lived. A place where you can feel, if only briefly, like you’re big enough to matter. An escape from the grim days we often find ourselves in, Wasteland allows us to pretend the days are darker, but the people are better. And sometimes, that kind of pretending tells more truth than we expect.

This return to Wasteland went far better than my first experience. I was much more prepared for what the desert — and the festival itself — had to offer. That said, preparation doesn’t exempt you from learning valuable lessons, and Wasteland is very good at teaching them whether you’re ready or not.

Before we get started, I want to take a moment to thank Johan from Processor for continuing to provide Void Signal’s soundtrack. You can visit processor2.bandcamp.com and download a large selection of Johan’s music on a pay-what-you-want basis. You can also check out his excellent new collaboration with Melt Motif, or the latest single from Modesty Beast featuring my homie Samtar. Again, that’s processor2.bandcamp.com.

And speaking of pay-what-you-want, allow me to mention once again that Void Signal has always been ad-free — powered by people, and produced for the enjoyment of humans. If you’ve enjoyed the show, please consider visiting VoidSignal.net or Patreon.com/voidsignal. The Patreon starts as low as two dollars a month, includes hours of extra content, and helps tremendously with keeping Void Signal in motion. Thank you for your time, as always — and please enjoy the show.

A long drive from Reno to California City, California awaited my manager, Grounded, and me as we set out on our return to the Wastes. We’d be reunited with most of our adopted tribe — the Dust Reapers — Cricket, Huggr, Clementine, Tick, a.k.a. Street Peach, and Entity. Tarmac was with us in spirit.

We arrived in California City on a sleepy Tuesday night and made our way to a nearby general store to pick up some last-minute supplies, kill a little time, and wait for Midnight Line — the official beginning of entry for Wasteland Weekend. As we wandered the aisles, browsing random items, I heard my name called out by someone who recognized me. A friend from Chicago, of all places, happened to be wandering the aisles of this particular store at the same time. It was a small but meaningful reminder that Wasteland had already begun.

Fellow Wastelanders crowded the parking lots, greeting tribemates and familiar faces. Music spilled out from cars, campers, and trucks as anticipation built. After gathering our supplies, we shared brief hugs with our tribe before rushing back to our vehicles and joining the growing parade of cars headed toward the Wastes.

Our journey nearly kicked off with tragedy as screeching tires and brakes erupted just behind us while turning onto the dirt road leading to Wasteland. One of our tribemates narrowly avoided a speeding truck on the main road that wasn’t paying attention. After a quick check-in to make sure everyone was okay, we continued bumping our way down the road.

Unlike last year, our stops were infrequent, and it didn’t take long for word to spread down the line that we’d be stopped for the night. Wastelanders wandered between cars, sharing drinks, homemade spirits, exotic imports, and snacks. We passed time in the dark with friendly strangers before deciding it was wise to try and grab some sleep. Back to the car we went, reclining seats and attempting a few hours of rest before the sun rose on day one of this year’s odyssey into the dust.

After some uncomfortable sleep, I watched as the distant horizon began to lighten. Before long, drums and noise echoed down the line. A Praetorian in a Mad Max–style vehicle rolled past, accompanied by excited War Boys shouting, “Wake up!” Those already awake shouted back greetings, extended middle fingers, and laughter.

Eventually, we crawled toward the gates, where staff directed cars, collected waivers, checked tickets and IDs, and ushered us inside.

From there, we followed our tribemates in search of a place to camp. We’d missed our original spot, and a backup location was too crowded for all of us to be together. Along the way, we stopped to say hello to Brain from the Great Northern Tribe, who was camping in Tent City. Before long, we found a suitable spot for everyone. After a quick discussion, we set to work — erecting a large communal tent, rearranging vehicles to provide shade and create a perimeter for our small slice of the dirt.

Portos were never far away, strategically placed throughout Tent City and cleaned every morning — a small but vital mercy in the Wastes.

It took a few hours of collective effort to get everything sorted. Once finished, the tribe shared snacks and took a moment to recharge. Schedules and maps were consulted, loose plans made, and mental notes taken about where friends might be throughout the city. Then we got into costume and set out to explore.

We wandered into town, browsing shops and barter along the way. While passing through the vendor district — where real money is used — a metalworker commented on how shiny my cup was. It had been a last-minute replacement for last year’s, and its pristine condition stood out against the rest of my worn Wasteland attire. She offered to give it some character if I left it with her for about an hour. I agreed, and the adventure continued.

Saloons were already serving patrons, and smiles were everywhere — on attendees and staff alike. The WCC radio station and post office buzzed with activity as people picked up merch and sent letters. Last year, during my interview with Multimeter, he mentioned Mobius the Mailman — someone I had the pleasure of finally meeting this year, tirelessly delivering mail with unwavering determination, though without time for an interview.

One saloon we stopped at hosted an open mic, with poetry shared by characters and audience members alike. We sat on a swing, enjoyed a drink, and soaked in the atmosphere as words were spoken over harmonica accompaniment. It was here I first encountered Chicken, who was running for Night Mayor, alongside Showpony, who was running for Day Mayor. Chicken’s enthusiasm for Wasteland was immediate and infectious. I thought to myself — he’d make a great mayor.

I’d run into Chicken many more times throughout the festival, and we’ll hear from him later in the show.

From there, we continued circling the city, stopping into familiar saloons and discovering new ones. We reconnected with friends and struck up conversations with strangers who had stories worth hearing. Along the way, I picked up my newly weathered cup and thanked the metalworker for her craft. Eventually, hunger outweighed curiosity, and we headed back to camp for something more substantial than snacks — sun-cooked ramen awaited us.

After several days of camp food and sun-cooked ramen, on Saturday while wandering around in the tent city, I came upon a great smell blowing down one of the streets, it lead me to a large open tent, with barkers calling for people to come make a plate, and eat. The Pickled Armadillos tribe was putting out freshly cooked meat by the tray fulls. Carnitas, pulled pork, barbeque chicken, along with a small assortment of items to go with it like rolls and sides.  I was welcomed in, asked to sign a ledger, and then urged to get food. I asked if it was okay to take my food to go, I wanted to share the meat bounty I’d discovered, and I was told of course, that was fine. So made up two plates, covered them, and took them back to camp to feast with Grounded. It was consumed with a lasting appreciation, and I returned a short time later to request an interview with someone among their number. I was introduced to the large, friendly fellow they called Judge, who seemed to be in charge and was credited with bringing and cooking the food. We wandered into a back area for a quiet chat, but even as we made our way voices called out to Judge from different directions. Quick communications or acknowledgements, he seemed like a chief among them. Respected and appreciated. Here’s the discussion with Judge.

We made an effort to catch more shows this year and enjoyed a variety of spectacles throughout the nights there. Death Guild’s Thunderdome delighted audiences nightly, along with live performances, DJs, fire dancers, and so on. Not far from the main stage is a small free-standing circular bar, with volunteer bartenders dispensing drinks to anyone who wants one. You can offer caps, or jokes, or stories for a cocktail that might be never made again. All the liquid behind the bar is donated, so you likely won’t get the same drink twice. One of these clever wasteland mixologists happens to be my tribemate, Clementine. It was a delight to be reunited and share some time together again, and I tapped her for an interview one morning as she sat, working and sewing baby-doll parts to a bathing suit for her entry into the wasteland bikini contest. Here’s the chat with Clementine.

Out on Wasteland City’s borders stands the Church of Latter Day Rustorationsists. A religious cult who seeks to help wanderers and newcomers understand their god, Dashun. They’ll baptize you in the mud and dirt to help you make your costume look more authentic, and less clean. A service they provide with smiles, charm, and the characters they are. We were reunited with Wasteland friends Preacher and tribemate Maxine Machina, who I also knew from Mechanismus Festival.  The next interviews you’ll hear are with the two of them, recorded not on site at Wasteland, but several weeks later, though Preacher’s interview had a few minutes of lost audio. Apologies to Preacher for the mishap, but we pick up with him discussing the service provided by the tribe. Here’s Preacher, followed by Maxine Machina.

We explored the city, saw familiar faces, and made friends with all new ones. Our tribemates from Sacramento, Cricket and Huggr, introduced us to some other Sac locals, who we’d later run into again at NucYule, a Sacramento area Wasteland Holiday party that took place in January. We met strangers who gave homemade gifts of jerky, jelly, art, alcohol, and a variety of other interesting treasures. On Saturday as the crowd began to disperse after assembling for the front gate photo, a voice rose above the crowd from an energetic fellow with a harmonica. Chicken had not been elected Night Mayor, and there was talk of war and a raid to try and overturn the rigged election. Voices joined the chorus and rallied behind Chicken and went to go participate in the impromptu event. I ran into Chicken later Saturday night as he and Dino Nuggets said enjoying libations in their open tent. Here’s that discussion.

The Great Northern Tribe, comprised of Washington based friends, was absent from Wasteland city this year, with the only attending member being my friend, and previous year’s interview, Matt Brain, who I also know from Mechanismus Festival. I saw Brain every day of the festival and he was always ready with a smile and his signature positive attitude. We shared drinks, snacks, and stories of our adventures in the Wastes, but I asked Brain for an interview a few weeks after Wasteland to hear his thoughts on the event, where it’s going, and what the future of it looks like for him.

The return to Wasteland brought with it a variety of new experiences and valuable lessons. I was reminded yet again that this is all we have. The existence we carve out for ourselves is what we get to enjoy, so we’d better do it while we can, before we’re gone. There’s a thoughtful urgency that underscores my time there — a quiet but persistent reminder that one day we’ll all just be rust and dirt, and whatever we leave behind will mostly be carried in the memories of others.

I wandered the Wastes not knowing I was in search of my better self, but I certainly feel that I have found him. Or maybe remembered him. There’s something about stripping life down to dust, heat, intention, and human connection that makes it easier to see who you are when the noise falls away. At Wasteland, you’re allowed to be deliberate about how you exist, how you treat people, and what kind of mark you leave behind, even if it’s only for a few days.

There’s a freedom to be had at Wasteland — a self-efficacy and self-determination that can make you feel genuinely empowered. Like you matter. Like your presence meant something, even in a place built to look like the end of the world. You show up, you participate, you give a little of yourself, and in return you’re reminded that you belong somewhere, even if that somewhere only exists briefly in the desert.

Wasteland can connect you with others who are also seeking to fill their days with adventure and meaning. It can bond you to someone else, or bond you back to yourself in ways you didn’t know were possible. There’s room for joy, absurdity, sincerity, and reflection — often all at once. And there might be purpose, peace, and memories waiting for you out in the Wastes. But like most things in life, you have to show up to get it.

So I hope to see you in the Wastes someday. And if not there, then somewhere else that asks you to be present, to care, and to pursue what you love as hard as you can.

Thank you to Jared Butler and the entire Wasteland staff for another fantastic year. My gratitude to the Dust Reapers, all the guests for this episode and last year’s.Thank you to all the Wastelanders I met who made me feel welcome and accepted. My love and thanks to Grounded, for being my partner in adventure, and being willing to move at the speed of Prime. And of course, thank you dear listener, Void Signal is nothing without hearts and minds to hear it, I hope some words from this program touches one of those things for you.

Until next time — from the Wasteland and for Void Signal — this is Prime.